My CERTIFIED FINANCIAL PLANNER? journey

When God makes us wait, it’s always for a purpose. Over ten years ago, I thought I was pursuing a Finance degree at Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University. As it turned out, I was far off but God was right on target.

My first years of study were at the Missionvale campus, offering a daily reminder of Kasi life. I saw double-story houses made of metal, countless illegal electricity connections, and strike actions with burning tires on the roads. Despite this, campus security was excellent, the surrounding community respected our pursuit of education, and the campus boasted the top-ranked library in Africa. A couple years later, I moved to South campus located in the surburbs. What I appreciated all through-out my studies was the fact that my university was connected to a game reserve. I love #nature and seeing the Zebras and different Antelopes on a daily basis, including the Monkeys with Baboon tendencies, was just breathtaking.

Reality hit during my postgraduate studies when I learned that three years of work experience were still required to attain the CERTIFIED FINANCIAL PLANNER? (CFP?) designation; I was told different. I was in disbelief and disappointed because had I known earlier, I might have studied law or accounting to end up with two professions instead of one. Still, I wasn’t about to take the news lying down. After some research, I discovered a U.S.-style mentorship program requiring only 12 months of work experience, which sounded perfect to me.

I completed my studies, returned to Botswana, and started working. A few months in, I discovered that the mentorship program required supervision by a CFP?-designated mentor. So, back to the drawing board - I changed employers and found the right supervisor. Since it was a first for my region, documentation and reporting took time.

The mentorship started well until my former colleagues struggled to adapt to financial planning concepts. Things worsened when I went broke for a month to write my CFP? board exams - and the spiral continued after I passed. The devil nearly robbed me of my peace and joy, but I kept my faith.

Passing the exams with under eight months of postgrad experience was a highlight. What helped? A LinkedIn post from an industry colleague about forming a study group. I jumped in like I was skydiving. The group moved to WhatsApp, became a game-changer, and along with industry updates, chats with former classmates, and a whole lot of prayer, I made it through those tough weeks of exam preparation, writing, and marking. No questions, God came through for me.

I thought I was all set after aligning my professional board and mentor on this unique mentorship route. But Lord, have mercy. So, the program required me to work with three clients and delivering wholistic financial planning across three areas over 12 months. However, not long into the journey, my mentor flat-out refused to submit evaluation reports which were already fewer than five in total. The disagreement? My mentor prioritised sales, while the program emphasised gaining experience.

See, I inherited a global database of over 70 clients and managed to engage 8–20 weekly, delivering all six areas of wholistic financial planning. Many hadn’t received ongoing advisory or portfolio management for years, so it took two months to trace, reconnect, and rebuild rapport. Over the next three months, I conducted in-depth portfolio reviews, uncovering why their international investments were underperforming at shocking margins. You can imagine how angry my clients were at our review meetings. I then designed and implemented a successful investment repair strategy that thrived during the current U.S. President’s first term. It wasn’t easy because monitoring the top three global stock exchanges demanded sharp focus. I even exceeded expectations by driving sales, though my mentor didn’t understand my strategy of generating sales from existing clients instead of new ones.

The work environment grew toxic and competition from former colleagues became intense. I coped by watching online church sermons daily; that hour of soul work really kept me grounded. Eventually, just two weeks shy of my 12-month mark, everything crashed. But I was ready, I’d been updating my resignation letter daily for three months.

I reported everything to my professional board, but they neither asked questions nor reviewed my submissions (which I still have more of; including client recommendation letters). Instead, I received a brief apology and a denial of my CFP? goal for not completing 12 months; nothing about my experience.

I took the L, dropped the mentorship route, switched companies, and later pursued my Master’s. Years passed, more projects and more clients, I still racked up three years of work experience and became a CFP?. Long story short: I went from a Student Membership during postgrad to a REGISTERED FINANCIAL PLANNER? (after my mentorship program flopped; titles changed), then a FINANCIAL SERVICES ADVISOR?, and finally a CERTIFIED FINANCIAL PLANNER?. Throughout, I wasn’t aware that I qualified for Continuous Professional Development (CPD) exemptions, so I completed all CPDs as required. I should have been a CFP? at 26 years of age but got it at 29 years of age. I took it anyway, no devil’s stealing my joy.

Not all financial planners (different from financial advisors) specialise in all six areas of financial planning and are independent, so let’s ask. At one point, it was interesting being the second Motswana CFP?, then one of fewer than five CFP?s in the country, then the youngest. Hopefully, things have changed - I can’t still be the youngest in my 30s. Someone, please take that title; I’m not a chick anymore, I’m a hen now! Hindsight, I thought I’d reach this level of expertise at age 50, but hey - my God works instantly.

On the other side of it all, people and organisations will watch us struggle for their entertainment. But the fun ends when we rise above the challenges. With time, they’ll have no choice but to change the systems and procedures. Often, without giving us credit, since that would mean admitting their part in our struggles. Still, let us celebrate our flowers and not let the devil steal our joy. Let’s keep showing up and showing out.